


Roll Again, Derek Hale

by chantelle82



Series: The Rules of Romance [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, roommates!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 11:52:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chantelle82/pseuds/chantelle82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of their fight, Derek and Stiles are stuck in a passive-aggressive standoff…with Scott stuck in between.  Thank god the Sheriff’s in town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roll Again, Derek Hale

Scott carefully peered out of his bedroom door; he could hear the clanking of pots against the stove, and cupboards opening and closing.  No voices.  He took a deep breath and opened the door wide.

“Morning, bro.  I’ll just have-,” he began, before almost tripping over his feet as he took in the scene before him.  _Derek_ had hijacked the kitchen – that was the only word for it.  There were pots, pans and dishes _everywhere_.  Scott didn’t know what he was more surprised by: the fact that his roommate looked like he’d gotten hair advice from a Muppet, or that Stiles wasn’t on a _literal_ murder spree because of the state of his kitchen.

Derek flicked on the stovetop, turned to him and shot him a way-too-large smile.  “I’ve just put some muffins in the oven, and I’m about to mix up a batch of scrambled eggs.  You want bacon in yours?”  He waited for Scott to nod before leaning over to rifle through the fridge.  By the over-loud way that Derek had asked the question, it was obvious that Stiles was in the apartment somewhere.

Everything had been topsy-turvy for the last week and Scott still didn’t really know what had happened.  He knew about Stiles’ call into Derek’s show – it was hard to miss since the station was treating it like a great prank call, and was replaying it every few hours. Scott knew his best friend could be a grade-A asshole sometimes, but he wasn’t often unreasonably malicious; something had happened…something had really hurt him for Stiles to cross a line like that.  But no-one was talking.

So, Derek and Stiles were stuck in a passive-aggressive standoff…with a clueless Scott stuck in between

Backing away from his soon-to-be maimed roommate – Derek was actually using one of Stiles’ ‘special’ knives to slice open the packet of bacon – Scott headed over to Stiles bedroom and let himself in.

“Morning, dude.  Make yourself comfy,” Stiles muffled voice came out from under his desk. 

Scott pushed aside what seemed like the entire apartment’s supply of hair products and flopped down on top of the bed.  Idly fingering a jar of ‘Extra-hold, Silky-smooth Shaping Crème’, he shot a look at his friend – well, his friend’s _ass_ , because that was the only thing visible at that moment.  “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on with you and Derek yet?”

“I knew I could smell something,” Stiles said, sliding out from underneath the desk and turning around – his upper body was littered with stray pieces of glitter, paper and dust.  “Note to self:  glue is _not_ a viable fruit preservative.”  He scrunched up his nose as he dropped the grape(?) into a huge trash bag.

Scott held up a tube of gel and waved it around.  “Come on, dude.  This is getting ridiculous.  Tell me what happened so I can fix it.”

“Do you think Dad’ll want an extra pillow?  I should grab another one when I go shopping,” Stiles replied off-handedly, dodging the gel that sailed by his left ear and hit the wall behind him.

“You can’t keep doing this, Stiles.  We all have to live together here.  If you can’t talk to me, can you _at least_ talk to Derek and work it out?”  No reply.  “Have you seen the kitchen this morning?  He’s using the _blue_ bowl to make scrambled eggs.”  Scott didn’t miss the slight jaw clench and the glare Stiles shot at the door.

“I’m gonna cook roast lamb on Saturday for everybody.  Gotta try and get as many vegetables in as I can this weekend.”  At the sound of a thump, Stiles walked over, pushed open the window and grabbed the pillow that was being lowered down.  “Thanks Greenberg.”

Scott frowned as he watched his friend drop the pillow on his desk and continue to straighten up the room.  Even though Stiles was pretty tidy, he always seemed to go into ‘spring-cleaning’ mode whenever the Sheriff was staying for the weekend.

“I’m not dropping this, Stiles.  You two were getting along, like, really well and then…BAM, crazy times!  What did he do?” Scott was a little uncertain about how to ask the next question without Stiles getting defensive with him.  “I know he was curious about…things.  _You_ things.  He didn’t push you or anything, did he?”

Scott watched Stiles’ back stiffen for a moment before he went back to straightening the tower of books he kept piled up beside his desk.  “Don’t worry about anything.  I’ll work it out, okay.  But can you just drop it for now?  I’m _really_ looking forward to Dad getting here.”

“For now…But we’re _so_ having a house meeting Sunday night,” Scott said determinedly as he dragged himself off the bed.

“I’d really love to, but I’m washing my hair that night.”

“Then I guess it’s a house meeting in the bathroom.  I’ll change the invitations,” he quipped as he walked out to grab some eggs.

As he closed the door, Scott heard an extremely grateful sounding “ _I love you, Greenberg_ ”, before Derek almost ran into him. A bottle of hair-gel was clutched tightly in his hand.

“I’m just gonna-“ Derek gestured down the hallway to the bathroom and then side-stepped him to go and work on his hair.

Scott sighed and headed to the kitchen.  Being the only mature person in this place was _exhausting_.

 

*****

 

Derek double-checked the lint filter on the dryer before he threw in his jeans and turned the dial.  As the machine began to rumble, he went to start another load.  It was the first time Derek had even been down to the laundry; Scott had convinced him that his clothes were in good hands with Stiles, and he _did_ make them so, so soft – but he’d walked into the bathroom that morning to find all of his clothes picked out of the communal laundry basket and left on the floor.  Point made.

“Trying to get in good with boyfriend, I see.”  Derek rolled his eyes and didn’t even bother to respond to Peter’s jab.  “Please don’t tell me you’ve stooped to something as pedestrian as the ‘silent treatment’.  I’m disappointed.”

Derek frowned as he poured detergent into the dispenser and set the machine to cottons – he hoped that’s what Stiles usually did.  Peter walked over, crossed his arms and leaned his elbow on the machine beside him.

“Don’t tell me you’re still stuck in your little soap opera with Stiles.  At least tell me when the big climactic reunion scene is on.  Save me a seat, I’ll bring popcorn.”

“Why are you even here, Peter?” Derek scowled as he faced his uncle.  “Did you want to check to make sure your little conversation with Stiles was causing as much crap as possible?  Well, it is.  Happy?  Of course you are.”

“Get over yourself.  If that idiot you call a roommate was a _normal_ human being, he should have been touched that you got your ‘big bad scary uncle’ to be nice to him.  I am in no way responsible for the Shakespearean vignette you’ve both irrationally decided to play out.”

“Don’t pull that bullshit.  You knew exactly what you were doing by telling him that I talked to you,” Derek shot back as he picked up his laundry basket.

“There you go… _you_ shouldn’t have talked to me.  Therefore, _I_ am not the villain in your drama.”  He straightened up and smoothed the creases in his shirt.  “And what did I tell you about conditioner?  Your hair punishes you when you don’t use it and it punishes me because I have to look at it.”

Derek pushed past him – he’d rather chance the torture chamber that was his apartment than being in the same room with his uncle.  “As great as this family catch-up was, I’ve got to get back to absolutely nothing upstairs.  I’ll see you later.”

“Oh, please.  Are you honestly going to be angry with me about this?  Did I miss the memo that you’ve regressed to a teenager?”

Rubbing his hand tiredly over his face, Derek turned to face his uncle.  “Honestly?  I’m not angry with you, Peter.  I’m just…nothing.”

“Apathy does not become you, dear nephew.  It’s just so tedious.”

“Everything bores you.  Sometimes, I wonder why I even keep-“ Derek stopped himself from saying something that he couldn’t take back and that Peter wouldn’t forget.  But by the look on the man’s face, he’d gotten the gist of what the end of that sentence was going to be.  “Look, I’m just frustrated right now, so I’m going to go before I make everybody in my life hate me, okay?”

Derek walked away, not really in the mood to hear any kind of retort that Peter had.  If only he could control everybody around him – his life would be _so_ much easier.  He should really look into that.

 

*****

 

“It’s a pretty big deal, you know.  I haven’t done the ‘going away for the weekend thing’ before.  I mean, me and Stiles have-“

“And as romantic as I’m sure that _was_ …” Derek rolled his eyes as he stretched his baseball-mitt-covered hand out to catch the ball Scott had thrown a little wide, “…it’s probably going to be a little different with Allison…Actually, I’m not entirely sure about that. You and Stiles probably hugged on the couch, crying over a movie.”  He lazily threw the ball into Scott’s waiting hands that were encased in a pair of ludicrous Spongebob Squarepants oven mitts.

“Hey!  The guy lost his wife…and she had this dream…and the moment where the balloons shot out from all ‘round the house…” Scott’s rambling was stopped by a friendly flick on the ear by Stiles as he walked past.

“He wasn’t being literal dude.”

Derek watched as Stiles placed salt, cheese and an unopened packet of bacon into the basket waiting at the lounge room window, then turned and made his way back to the kitchen.  Apparently, they were still doing the ‘no eye-contact thing’.

He sighed and turned his attention back to Scott.  “You’ll be fine…and if you do freak out, the Argent’s cabin is _huge_ ; you could hide and Allison would never find you.”

Scott focused worriedly on the ball in his hands for a moment before he looked up at Derek.  “Are you sure you’re not weirded out that I’m dating your ex’s niece?  I mean I know you _said_ you’re okay, but Allison’s also your boss’ daughter…I don’t want to make anything uncomfortable or anything, you know?”

“No, it’d be weird if you were dating his _boss_ ,” Stiles interjected as he placed the entire apartment’s supply of potato chips in the basket, tugged the wire a few times and watched as it disappeared to the apartment above.  “Although after seeing Allison’s bone structure, I wouldn’t mind swimming in her gene pool.  Her dad is probably all _kinds_ of hotness,” he finished and flopped down on the couch beside his friend.

“Gross, gross, gross.  Remind me to never introduce you to her father…like ever,” Scott grimaced and turned back to face Derek.  “But I’m serious, man; I don’t want to make things awkward for you at work.”

 _Well, that makes_ one _of you_ , Derek restrained himself from saying.  “It’s fine, Scott.  There were a few days Chris grilled me for information about you, but I think when you passed the background check he lightened up a bit.”

Scott shot a goofy grin at Stiles and said, “Thank god your dad got that restraining order taken off our records, huh?”

“If you were anybody else, I’d assume you were joking.”  Derek attempted to give Stiles a playful smile – there had to be _some_ way to get things back to normal – but again he was ignored.

“I wish.  Mom grounded me for _months_ and I can’t even _look_ at a bowling ball anymore without-“ Scott’s confession was interrupted by an extremely high-pitched scream; Derek shivered involuntarily as thoughts of killer clowns came to mind.

Stiles pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.  “Hey, Dad.”  Suddenly, he jumped up and started to pace around the apartment, examining everything closely.  “You’re here _now_?  You’re early!...No, it’s all good…We’re all here…Yeah…Me too.”

Scott joined his friend and placed a calming hand on his shoulder.  “Everything looks good, Stiles.  It’s fine.”

“Yeah,” he shot a quick look to Derek – almost eye contact, Derek noted – before whispering, “I just don’t want there to be anything that might make him worry, you know?”

Again with all the mysteriousness.  Derek felt like he was constantly on the outside, looking in with his nose pressed up against the window, when it came to his two roommates.

The loud knock at the door broke the awkward silence that had fallen over the apartment.  Derek stood up and made his way over to stand beside Scott as Stiles took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Hey, son,” Stiles’ dad said, not waiting for an invitation before he walked into the apartment.  “You look _really_ great.”

“Are you hitting-“ The rest of Stiles’ words were muffled as he was pulled into a hug.

Derek had seen a few photos of Mr. Stilinski – he’d assumed that was who was in all of the pictures in Stiles’ room – but they did nothing to prepare him for the _presence_ the man had when he walked into the apartment.   It was as if he just exuded ‘authority’ and ‘Dad’ and ‘comfort’ – and it made Derek’s chest ache.

The Sheriff gave his son one final squeeze around the shoulders before he pulled away and shook Scott’s hand.  “Your mom told me I had to ask you to tell me everything about your new girlfriend…Let’s pretend we just did that.”

Scott laughed.  “I’ll call her later.”

“You’d better…And _you_ must be Derek.  I must say that you look a lot less ‘To Catch a Predator’ than you do in your driver’s license photo.”

“Thank you, sir.  I think,” Derek answered a little uncertainly as he shook the man’s hand; Stiles’ dad made him feel like he was ten years old again.

“Call me Sheriff.  I like people to remember – especially people who live with my son – what I do for a living,” he chuckled.  Catching sight of something behind Derek’s shoulder, he added, “I see you’ve made quite the impression.”

Twisting his neck to follow the Sheriff’s eye-line, Derek frowned.  That stupid bust!Jackson.  Who was currently looking a little like a certain stubble-faced inhabitant of McHalinski Manor – with the addition of a papier-mache penis stuck to his forehead.

“Just trying to make him feel welcome,” Stiles cut in, moving to block dickhead Derek!Jackson from view.  “Hand me your bag and go sit down.  Scott’ll grab you a beer.”

As the roommates headed off in different directions, Sheriff hooked an arm around Derek’s neck and herded him towards the couch.  “So, tell me the truth – how is it living with Rocky and Bullwinkle?”

“Different,” he answered, diplomatically.  Derek really didn’t want to make things worse by saying, ‘ _Actually Scott’s pretty cool, but your son is a bit of an asshole.’_

The Sheriff studied him for a moment, seemingly picking up on the unspoken opinion.  “I’ve heard you on the radio a few times; you seem to have a good head on your shoulders.  I can’t imagine my son’s been easy on you, knowing his view of those in your line of work.”

Derek chose his words carefully, this _was_ Stiles’ father after all, and answered, “It’s fine.  I probably won’t be adding him to my fan club any time soon, though.”

Sheriff’s lips curled up in a knowing grin – wow, _there_ was the family resemblance – and puffed out a breath as if to reply but Scott, returning to the lounge and juggling three cold beers and a soda, interrupted him.

“Here ya go.”  Scott handed out the drinks and perched himself comfortably on the coffee table.  “How’s everything back home?”

“Quiet.”  Sheriff twisted off the bottle top and settled back in the chair.  “I did notice that you and Stiles weren’t able to make it to the ‘Jackson Whittemore Gala’ held in honour of his getting, I believe, a promotion.  You must’ve been disappointed.”

“I’m more disappointed that _my_ father didn’t throw a parade to celebrate the smack I put down on a guy to get the ice machine fixed,” Stiles remarked, swiping the can of soda from the table and flopping down next to his dad, ensuring that there was a Great Wall of Sheriff in between himself and Derek.

“I’ll call my balloon guy right now if you can honestly tell me that you _didn’t_ make a cast of your own ‘parts’ any time this week.”  The Sheriff looked pleased with himself when his son narrowed his eyes, but remained silent.  Derek’s eyes darted involuntarily over to dickhead Derek!Jackson.  Plaster must be _cold_.

“So, Derek,” a voice cut in and forced him to focus back on the older Stilinski.  “Are you joining us for dinner tomorrow?”

“Uhh…” It hadn’t really been discussed but Derek was pretty certain that Stiles would rather invite human!Jackson than him.  Any other time, he would have refused to be chased out of his apartment because of Stiles’ continued aggravation, but it was a little different with the Sheriff present.

“He’s definitely staying,” Scott interjected.  “Derek’s taking over vegetable duty ‘cause I gotta go in to work tomorrow.  A client’s worried about an upcoming audit, so I’m the chosen one to double-check everything.”

Derek didn’t miss the hard kick to the ankle that Stiles gave his friend, and neither did the Sheriff.  Thankfully, he didn’t comment on the very obvious tension that was present in the apartment.  Maybe the guy’s used to it, what with Stiles being his son and all, Derek thought.

“You agreed, remember Derek?”  Scott innocently asked.  There had been no such promise.  But looking into the guy’s eyes, Derek understood what he was trying to do; being the roommate caught between Stiles and Derek’s passive-aggressive standoff was probably exhausting.

“Sure, Scott, how could I forget?  That’s the same time you said you’d detail my car.  I’ll leave the keys on the table.”  If he had to be the bigger person here, Derek was going to make sure he got _something_ out of it.  Scott just nodded his head – he was definitely a hard guy to annoy.

“Make sure you get the salt back from Greenberg for the potatoes,” Sheriff said, clapping a friendly hand on Derek’s shoulder.  “I trust that you know which Stilinski can cause you more trouble.”

 Oh yes, he knew – unfortunately it _wasn’t_ the one with the badge.  It was the one who had finally decided to make eye contact with him.  Sure, it was a death glare – but at least it was a start.

 

*****

 

Derek was having fun.  He’d spent most of the night trying to stop himself from smiling, but damn, these people were making it hard – watching the Sheriff surreptitiously sprinkle salt on his meal from packets he had stashed in his pocket, listening to Danny regale them with the tale of spending the night before being propositioned by his second grade teacher, or seeing Scott’s goofy grin whenever Erica needled him about his ‘wooing’ of Allison…but then of course there was the Stiles.  Having a good time meant becoming a world-class champion at ignoring _that_ tension.  Derek should get a medal or a small commemorative trophy.

“Would you leave the guy alone?” Boyd tossed the dice at Scott, ignoring the pea that Erica threw at him.

“All of you should be taking notes since Scott here’s the only one with any game.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Stiles interjected, “My game’s the best in town.  Where do you think he learned all his moves?”

“Your idea of a romantic date was playing Xbox by candlelight…you really swept me off my feet that Valentine’s day,” she mocked. 

Derek had almost choked on a piece of pumpkin when he’d found out that Stiles and Erica had _dated_.  He still couldn’t wrap his head around it, Erica seemed so well-adjusted – plus Stiles had actually _liked_ her.  Derek had spent a lot of time studying her…for reasons.

“Don’t forget…what was his name?  Randy?  Ronny?”  Danny turned to Boyd who laughed out “Reggie”, both guys ignoring the death glare coming from the end of the table.  “Yes, Reggie!  That poor guy came into the store with the works…flowers, chocolate, stuffed bear…and what does Stiles do?  He takes all the stuff and gives the dude a packet of beef jerky off the counter.”  Boyd and Danny started to crack up.

“Oh, but the best part was his face.  It was just like this dazed zombie look as he walked out slowly with his jerky…Reggie had a good taste in chocolates though; that shit was smooth,” Boyd finished.

“As great as this little detour through my love life has been…It’s Scott’s turn to roll, so let’s get this moving.”

Unfortunately for Stiles, amusingly for Derek, his father didn’t take the hint.

“I don’t know where I want wrong.  He wasn’t always like that.  You should have seen him and his crush on his first grade teacher.”  Stiles groaned, letting his forehead hit the table and keeping it there, while Scott excitedly shouted, “Mr. Peterson!”.  “Yeah, that’s right.  Peterson.  Every afternoon, I’d come home to a glitter explosion and Stiles here writing every possible version of ‘You are the greatest’ on a card.  You remember that, Scott?”

“No, he doesn’t,” Stiles glowered, grabbing the dice and forcing them into his friend’s hand.  “Roll.”

Scott smiled evilly at Stiles.  “I sooo remember that.  Every morning he’d make me sneak in and leave a stupid card on Peterson’s desk.  I was terrified I was gonna be arrested or something.”

“Don’t tell me _this_ is the restraining order story?” Derek couldn’t help himself from asking.  For a moment, he wished that he was a part of these stories, had a shared history with these people.

“Ha!  They mentioned that to you?”  Sheriff looked at him, amused.  “That started with Scott buying a pig he called Patty and-“

“And stuff happened.  The end…For the love of everything Batman, roll the goddamn dice.”  Derek could tell that Stiles was trying to keep as much irritation out of his voice as possible, the presence of the Sheriff had an effect on the guy’s personality, but the irritation was there and everybody around the table sensed it.

“Chill out, bro,” Scott said unphased, rolling the dice across the table.

“Three and blue.”  Boyd reached over to grab the standard pack of Trivial Pursuit question cards from in front of Alex Trebek!Jackson – complete with the classic mustache. 

Derek hadn’t really played the game many times, but when he had watched Stiles unpack two sets of trivia cards and dice – one set obviously homemade – there was little surprise that these people didn’t play anything the normal way.

Everybody groaned when Scott moved his piece to Science & Nature, the guy was the master of that category. After playing the game for a few rounds, Derek had picked up on everybody’s strengths:  Scott – Science & Nature, Stiles – Arts & Literature, Sheriff – History and Sports & Leisure, Danny – Entertainment and History, Erica – Arts & Literature, and Boyd – Geography and Sports & Leisure.  Derek fancied himself pretty good at Entertainment and History, but some of the questions had really been kicking his butt.

Boyd pulled out the card and, in his best quiz show host voice, asked, “What’s the term for opposition to an electrical current in a conductor?”

Scott smirked.  “In the words of the great Georg Simon Ohm who discovered it,” everybody groaned again, “That’s _resistance_ , bitch.”  He raised his beer in triumph and pointed to Boyd.  “I choose you to give us the chorus of ‘Call Me Maybe’, sexy dance included.”

“I knew you always wanted a piece of this chocolate goodness,” Boyd sassed, standing up and unashamedly started to sing, sexy hip movements included.

 _This_ was why they were three hours into a game of Trivial Pursuit.  Every time somebody answered their question correctly, they could choose anybody they wanted to do a dare.  Most disturbingly so far, for Derek, had been Erica requesting the Sheriff to do his sexiest runway walk across the kitchen.  Let’s just say the guy _committed_ to the role.  Stiles had spent the entire time with his hand over eyes asking “Is it over?” while the rest of the table wolf-whistled and cheered.

Boyd finished his song, bowed and threw the dice back at Scott.  “Your turn again.  But if you wanna see any more of my moves, you better be willing to put out a little.”

“Sorry, I’m taken now, dude.  You missed your chance of getting some McCall lovin’.”  He rolled the dice.  “Three, red.  Bring it on.”

Rolling red on the second die meant answering a question from the homemade cards, Derek had discovered.  Since he was a newbie to the game, he’d been exempted from that pack – for now.

“And it’s a Danny question,” Boyd paused while Danny gave a little fist-pump, “Here goes…Danny got his first kiss when he was eight.  Who gave it to him and where was he?”  And _that’s_ why Derek was exempted from those questions.

“Crap.  I know this. I _know_ this…He was hanging off the monkey bars and that girl came over…and her name was…Damn it, I give up.”

“That would be ‘Jessica Linton’.  Sorry, Scott. You lose,” Boyd gave a wide smile as he placed the card at the back of the pack.

“First and last time I ever kissed a girl,” Danny added, proudly.

“That girl probably has no idea how special that-“ The Sheriff’s comment was interrupted by the sound of Derek’s scream coming from Stiles’ pocket.

“There _has_ to be a way to get rid of that,” Derek muttered, the Sheriff patting his back sympathetically.

Stiles looked at the screen and hit ‘ignore’, pretending not to notice Scott’s questioning look beside him.  Just another thing that Derek had no clue about.

“You’re up, sexy.”  Derek cringed at Erica’s words as she threw only the normal die at him.  He rolled a four and decided to head into the scary world of the Sports & Leisure category.

Erica took her time pulling the card out of the box, asking, “What’s the only NFL team without decorations on the sides of its helmets?”

Derek had absolutely _no_ idea; he barely had a working knowledge of anything but a handful of NFL teams.  Looking around the table, at all the expectant faces plus the now-familiar Stiles scowl, he replied uncertainly with, “Uh, the Cleveland Browns?”

Erica put the card back in the box.  “Absolutely correct.”

“You totally have no clue what _any_ team helmet looks like,” Danny laughed, watching Derek shrug his shoulders in reply.

With the sound of his own terrified scream still in his head, Derek fixed his gaze on Stiles.  “I choose you to drink a mouthful of juice from the pickle jar in the back of the fridge.”

“Ughh, I think Jackson bought that before last Thanksgiving,” Scott grimaced; Derek’s focus remained on Stiles, who was finally gracing him with some eye-contact – _branding_ him with it. 

All of Derek’s senses were concentrated on Stiles’ face – the steely glare, the clenched jaw, the way his nose turned up slightly at…No, that’s _not_ what he meant to look at – Steely glare, focus on the steely glare.

Without a word, Stiles rose up from his seat, walked around the table to the fridge and reached in to get the aforementioned pickle jar.  Derek tracked his movement until Stiles stood right in front of him – staring right into his eyes while he unscrewed the lid, the sour smell of vinegar filled the air, and slowly he brought the jar to his lips.

“I’ll dial 911 into my phone right now, just to be ready,” Derek heard the Sheriff say behind him; but that was just background noise to the scene in front of him.  It was mesmerizing – the long column of Stiles’ neck swallowing once and then just to prove a point, swallowing again.  Derek licked his lips as he tracked up from the hollow of Stiles’ throat to the fierce gaze that was still fixed on him. 

They stayed that way – eyes locked, breath held – for a moment, until Stiles turned away to put the pickle jar back where he’d found it.  Picking up the die to roll again, Derek didn’t miss the loaded look the older Stilinski gave him.  Obviously it was a genetic trait – the annoying ability to make him feel insecure, with just a flick of their eyes.

Damn Stilinskis.

 

*****

 

“Okay, we’ve got ‘The Magnificent Seven’ or ‘The Good, The Bad and The Ugly’.  My vote’s for ‘The Magnificent Seven’…I mean it’s got Steve McQueen and all his pink-shirted goodness…” Stiles held up the two DVDs waiting for some input from his father.

Erica had convinced everybody else to go out with her to a club after Scott’s triumphant victory at Trivial Pursuit.  It wasn’t hard to make the choice to stay behind with his dad, especially with the weirdness that was being anywhere near Derek…that shit was just _confusing_.

“Stiles, sit down.”  Damn it, he knew what that tone meant.

“Let me just go get the popcorn started – unsalted, don’t get excited – so you just have to decide-“ Off his father’s completely unamused look, Stiles sighed, dropped the DVDs on the coffee table and slumped down on the couch.  “What?”

“Wow, I just had a flashback to you at sixteen.  Guess some things never change,” a look of sadness passed over his dad’s face, “But so many things have.”

Stiles nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “Dad, things are good.  _I’m_ good.  Why don’t I just cook the popc-“

“What’s going on with you and Derek?”

“What?!  Nothing.  He’s just a roommate, annoying, but-“

“I’m not an idiot.”  His dad fixed him with his fiercest ‘dad’ glare.  No matter how old he got, that look made Stiles feel like he was eight years old again.  “I heard you on the radio…And before you say anything, I don’t believe for a second that it was the friendly prank the station is saying it was…Something happened.”

“It’s nothing.  Definitely nothing for you to worry about.  Okay?”

“No, it’s not ‘okay’.” Stiles watched as he rubbed a weary hand over his face.  His stomach clenched at the knowledge that the tiredness on his dad’s face was because of him.  “I hear you lashing out like that in public and my mind just goes…it goes to places I _really_ don’t want it to go.”

“It’s not…I’m not…” This is what he hated; trying to put the craziness in his head into words – Stiles had never managed to do it without either offending or worrying the person he was talking to, and since it was his dad, he was _extra_ cautious.

“Did Derek do something?  Is he-“ Listening to the Sheriff’s voice, Stiles could tell he was coming to some pretty wrong conclusions.

“Dad, no. It’s something I _thought_ he did, and even though I’m pretty sure he didn’t, there’s still part of me that believes he will.”  Oh god, now he was rambling.  He should just prepare himself for his dad moving in and never letting him out of his sight.  But as he looked up, he was surprised by the fond smile on his father’s face.

“You’re gonna have to help me out a little, kid.  Even after all the years of practice, I’m still not entirely fluent in whatever _that_ was.”

Stiles let out a sigh and leaned his head on the back of the couch.  “I had…a moment…which Derek helped me through.”  He could feel his dad itching to make him elaborate, but amazingly he remained silent.  “Anyway, I guess it meant more to me than I realized, ‘cause when I thought he’d told somebody about it…it _really_ hurt.”  As Stiles’ voice cracked at the end, he allowed himself to draw comfort from the warmth of the hand his dad placed on his shoulder.

“And that’s when you called Derek at work?”  Stiles nodded in reply.  “But, now you know he didn’t.  So, why are you still treating him like he’s at the top of your enemies list – with a bullet?”

“I’m not doing that.”

The Sheriff scoffed.  “You made a plaster cast of your penis, Stiles.  To put on his head…And don’t even get me started about tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Your deductions are still top-notch, old man.  Is that what you wanted to hear?”

His dad gave his shoulder a small squeeze before he pulled away.  “You two weren’t exactly subtle.  I think even your bust!Jackson knew something was going on.”

“You’ve just guaranteed that you’re waking up to Sherlock!Jackson tomorrow morning.”

“Can’t wait.  But right now I just really want to know what’s going on in that great big brain of yours.”

“Too much, sometimes,” he muttered, focused on the black television screen.  Where did he even begin?  “I was really angry at him, even knowing that he hadn’t said anything…And crap, that doesn’t make sense…But now that I’ve already doubted him, it’s just always there in the back of my head, you know?  I don’t think I can make myself trust him.”

“So, it’s easier just to stay angry,” Sheriff finished sadly.  “Stiles…” Great.  There was his dad’s disappointed tone; _just_ what he needed right now.  “When you…when you disappeared…”

“Dad, can we please _not_ do this right now?”

The Sheriff continued on as if Stiles had never even spoken. “We were constantly just waiting for that phone call that you were-“ his voice cracked and Stiles watched as his dad took a few moments to collect himself.  “Anyway, you came back and you did so _great_ in getting your life back together…but that didn’t stop that little voice in my head telling me that it was only temporary and I’d wake up one morning and you’d be gone.”

Stiles knee started to bounce nervously as he quietly asked, “Why did you do that to yourself?  Why didn’t you just give up on me?”

“You’re an idiot.”  His dad’s harsh words were in stark contrast to the pained look on his face.  “You’re my son.”

Stiles never understood how that was his dad’s answer to everything, like it was all that needed to be said.  While Stiles remained silent, the Sheriff continued, “Everybody has faults…but if someone means something to me, I find a way to deal with it. Don't let it cloud your entire judgement of a person…of Derek.”

“I’ll think about it,” Stiles answered quietly.

The Sheriff studied his son’s face for a few moments before giving a slight nod and standing up.  “It’s been a long day, I’m gonna head to bed.”

“Yeah, okay…Thank you for…you know.” 

Stiles stood up when his dad opened his arms for a hug.  He would _never_ be too old for that; ‘dad hugs’ were always the best.

 

*****

 

“Shh, you’ll wake up everybody,” Derek whispered, stopping Scott from banging loudly on the front door.  “Give me a second.”

“Tonight was really great.  We should do that _all_ the time.  But with Stiles.  You’ve gotta stop fighting with him though.”

Derek rolled his eyes as he unlocked the door.  Tonight had been fun, until Boyd and Danny forced them to go to a karaoke bar where they then proceeded to sing every cheesy duet every written. 

Scott tripped a little as he walked into the apartment.  The guy hadn’t even had that much to drink, but apparently going past his bedtime seemed to have the same effect as being drunk.

“You’ll wake up Stiles.  Quiet,” Derek ordered, leading Scott through the darkness of the lounge.

“Stiles is already awake,” a voice came out from the kitchen.

“Jesus!” Derek jumped back as Stiles walked over, wearing boxers and an old Daredevil shirt, a plastic pipe in one hand, glue in the other.

“That’s not Jesus, that’s _Stiles_ ,” Scott cackled loudly at his ‘joke’.

“Late night, huh, buddy.  Why don’t I help get you to bed?”  Stiles dropped his stuff on the table before slinging his arm around Scott.  He turned back to Derek, “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Derek was too surprised to answer, so he just gave a small nod, watching the two friends head to Scott’s door.  “I totally rocked ‘I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For’ tonight.  I’d be a completely awesome Bono, wouldn’t I?” Derek heard Scott ask and Stiles agree, while he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge – it was obvious Stiles hadn’t had to listen to Scott murder that song _three_ times.

He dropped into a kitchen chair and idly looked around the room.  Derek couldn’t even begin to imagine what Stiles wanted to talk to him about.  The positive part of him thought that it was a good sign that the guy was looking at and talking to him, but there was also the negative voice in his head telling him that Stiles probably wanted him to move out.  Derek hated the uncertainty.

After spending five minutes studying Alex Trebek!Jackson – now _without_ a mustache – Stiles came back to the kitchen and sat down opposite him.  The silence continued as Derek watched him fidget with the pipe on the table.

“You’re killing me here,” Derek rushed out when he couldn’t take the awkwardness anymore.  “Can you just tell me either way what-“

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said so quietly Derek almost believed he imagined it

“You’re sorry?”

Stiles eyes darted up to meet his.  “I shouldn’t have called into your show, okay.  I’m sorry.”

Derek was a little surprised by the apology, he'd assumed Stiles' was planning to make his life a living hell until he had enough and moved away.  Eager to get the dynamic in the apartment back to normal, Derek carefully said, “Oh…I’m sorry, too.”

Stiles frowned at him.  “Don’t.  You didn’t do anything.”

Derek decided he had once again entered Bizarro Land.  “I know you thought I told Peter everything about that night – which I _didn’t_ – but I did tell him to take it easy on you.  So, sorry for that.”

Stiles gave a slight nod and traced the tip of the pipe across the table in a lazy figure eight pattern.  Derek could tell he wanted to say something, but he kept frowning like the words wouldn’t come.  Suddenly, he reached over for the Trivial Pursuit box and began to rummage through it.  Derek was confused when Stiles pulled his hand out and handed him a pile of white question cards.

At his continued blank stare, Stiles murmured, “For the ‘Derek’ category…you know…just come up with some questions…for next time.”

Oh.  Derek couldn’t understand why a handful of empty cards meant so much to him – and from anybody else it probably wouldn’t – but from Stiles…he knew this was a big deal.

“Thanks…I’m gonna go to bed now, but I’ll definitely work on the questions.”

“Whatever,” Stiles answered off-handedly.

Derek got up, walking out of the kitchen and taking one last look at Stiles as he started tear the grey hair off bust!Jackson’s head.

It was always small steps when dealing with Stiles, but at least tonight it seemed like they were finally moving forward.

 

 **Next time** :  With Scott out of town, Derek becomes Stiles’ ‘Scott’ for the weekend. 


End file.
